


don't know what was real (or a lie)

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e20 Nothing Personal, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: After Skye's rescued, the team's focus turns to Jemma.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	don't know what was real (or a lie)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Anna Clendening's "if I'm being honest"

Under normal circumstances Skye would probably tease Coulson about the silly little knock he does on the motel room door. But today? Today she memorizes the knock—two quick, pause, three longer—to use herself later and waits with her heart in her throat for any sign of life from inside.

 _That_ takes an agonizingly long time and, when she finally hears the chain on the door rattling, she tells herself it’s understandable. If she were the one who’d been left behind while the rest of the team was off rescuing one team member from another, she’d be pretty cautious too. But even knowing they’re probably freaked inside, she can’t stop herself from barreling through the door as soon as it swings open and she sees Fitz and Simmons’ relieved faces.

“Thank good _-_ ” Simmons cuts off abruptly when Skye squeezes the air out of her.

“You’re okay,” Skye breathes.

“Yeah, well, we were gonna say that about you,” Fitz says awkwardly. He pats Skye’s shoulder and she can tell he’s a little hurt not to be part of the hug. She loosens one arm, catching his hand while it’s dropping away and squeezing tight. She missed him too.

There must be some signal or something passed behind her because after a quick arm slung around Skye’s back, Fitz heads out and the door closes gently behind him. After that, it’s just Skye and Simmons.

“Skye,” Simmons says softly against her shoulder, “did you want to tell me what that was about?”

At this point, Skye’s woman enough to admit that she’s holding onto Simmons more to hide from what she’s gotta say than because she missed her. So she forces herself to let go and step back.

That, as it turns out, is a mistake. Actually _seeing_ Simmons without the shadows of the doorway to hide most of her face settles a lump in Skye’s throat. Simmons’ eyes are red, her cheeks blotchy and raw like she’s been wiping away tears for _hours_.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Simmons says. Because of course it’s Simmons who sees Skye’s discomfort and moves first to relieve it. She’s always been such a mom, no surprise she’d be one now when the whole world’s falling apart.

Skye lets herself be led to the nearest of the two beds, where she and Simmons take seats opposite each other on the mattress, knee-to-knee, hands clasped.

“Are you hurt?” Simmons reaches out to push Skye’s hair—God, her hair must be a mess—back so she can see the bruise by her eye. “We saw footage online of Mike pulling you from that police car. It was a _wreck_ -”

“I’m fine,” Skye says, finally finding her voice because she can’t bear the way Simmons’ cracks. “Mike didn’t hurt me.”

Simmons reads into that exactly what Skye didn’t mean to say, that someone else did hurt her. It’s true though, so she doesn’t try to take it back.

But the mention of Mike reminds Skye why she asked for time alone with Simmons in the first place.

_“I can talk to her if you like,” Coulson said after pulling into a spot right in front of the motel. “You don’t have to go through it again.”_

_“No, she deserves to hear it first-hand. And, no offense, AC, but this is kinda girl talk.”_

Skye probably should’ve asked for a little more time to compose herself first, then she might not be messing this up quite so badly.

“Do you want to-”

“He’s _crazy_ ,” Skye says because once the words are ready to come, she can’t pause for politeness. “He kept going on and on about how I’d _understand_ eventually and it was all a mission and- Sorry.”

Simmons has gone still and stiff. If Skye weren’t holding her hand so tight she’d probably have snatched it back.

“It’s all right,” she says, sounding scarily distant. “Go on.”

Skye takes a deep breath. “He wanted the hard drive unlocked. The one I made with all the Bus’s files? Guess he didn’t take it with him by accident because he came back to get it decrypted. I refused. I wasn’t gonna let the Clairvoyant get his hands on your research.”

Simmons swallows but it’s not enough for her to speak. She only nods, blinking rapidly.

Skye could kill Ward for the tear that slips down Simmons’ cheek. But Ward’s not here right now and Simmons needs her to suck it up and do this, so she carries on. “Mike showed up. Before that I’d been able to hide that I knew about Ward being Hydra-”

“How did you know?” Simmons asks suddenly.

The question surprises her. For Skye, the last few hours have been one drama after another. It hadn’t occurred to her that it wouldn’t be obvious to the others how things had played out at Providence.

“Koenig,” she says, struggling to get the name out. “I found him.”

Simmons laughs humorlessly. “Yes. The Air Force was quite interested when they discovered him in that vent.”

Skye takes a moment to tuck that little bit of info aside for later. There’ll be time to ask about their adventures after this conversation, when she’s got someone other than Simmons to ask.

“Anyway. After Mike showed up, things got more tense. Ward stopped pretending he wasn’t frustrated with me, he kept trying to _talk_ to me, like we were still friends.” She looks away, at the shadows of the bathroom. “Like he’s not working for the guy who had me _shot_.”

Simmons flinches and Skye reminds herself this isn’t about her.

“When they realized that wasn’t gonna work, Mike said-” Skye has to stop to breathe. God, she’s useless. This is the whole reason she’s here and she can’t even get it out. “He mentioned you,” she says, not sure if she’s being delicate for Simmons’ sake or her own. “Said if they wanted the research, there was still you.”

Now that she’s here, facing Simmons, she can’t tell her about the way Ward’s expression changed. Irritation twisting into a smile so malevolent Skye barely recognized him.

 _“Yeah,” he said, holding Skye’s horrified gaze even while he dropped her hand to move away, “I’m pretty sure I can convince_ Jemma _to help us out.”_

“He’s crazy,” Skye says again. “I know- I’m not trying to hurt you, it’s not your _fault-_ ” Her own voice breaks and she has to blink back tears. “He played us all.”

It’s a secret everyone knows, Simmons and Ward. Skye thought it was cute a week ago, how her super serious SO would would crack a smile at just a glance from Simmons, how Simmons would get all blushy and teenager-y every time he took his shirt off so she could give him a post-mission check-up.

Skye thought they were in love.

“And Grant?” Simmons asks after a long moment. “Did he- what did he-” She hangs her head.

“He’s a creep.” It’s the closest Skye can bring herself to talking about that conversation, the way Ward grinned while he mused about how easy it would be to _convince_ Simmons to give them what they wanted—after she’d given Ward what he wanted, of course, that was the unspoken side of the threat. Skye can still taste bile just thinking about it. “But you don’t have to worry. He’s got no reason to come after you. I- I decrypted the drive.”

Simmons’ head snaps up and her breath hitches. “Oh, _Skye_ -”

“I know. Your research in the Clairvoyant’s hands is … well, it’s not the _worst_ thing; the uprising takes that spot. But-”

“ _No_. Skye-” Simmons thins her lips. “You did the right thing.”

Skye’s throat tightens and all at once she feels tears welling up. “I knew you’d be mad-”

“Oh, no.” Simmons pulls at her jacket and drags her into her arms. “ _No_ , I’m not mad at all.” She rubs Skye’s back while she cries, still being the mom. Her breathing’s not as ragged as Skye’s, but it’s a close thing and it takes her a minute to speak again. “After the last few days, I think we can all agree the only thing that matters is the people we love being safe.”

Skye squeezes her tight and swears silently that Simmons will be safe. She’ll kill Ward herself before she lets him touch Simmons again.

~~~~~

It’s been a long day and Trip knows this is just the calm at the eye of the storm; trouble’s still raging around them, bearing closer and closer by the second. So after scarfing down half a pizza, he stocks up on candy from the vending machine. There’s no telling the next time they’ll be able to rest and eat a real meal, so a few Reese’s in his bag will do well for an energy burst in a pinch.

Once those are tucked away in his bag, he takes the long way back to the pool, circling the perimeter of the motel. Aside from a couple teenagers drinking beers at the back of the parking lot and a bum sleeping in his car, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“-should be grateful,” he hears Fitz saying. The angle he came from, he’s gotta walk all the way around the pool area to reach the gate and passes by where Fitz and Simmons are sitting on the pool’s edge. “That you were raised by operatives.” He says it the way someone might say they were raised by wolves.

Simmons sighs so heavy Trip can hear her eyes rolling. He’s too near the pool filter by now to make out her response, but the tone of it strikes him as warm and friendly, if irritated.

Good. She put up a good fight at the Hub, but there’s a big difference between facing an unfamiliar enemy and finding out you’ve been sleeping with a Nazi.

Trip checks in with Coulson and makes sure Skye eats some M&M’s—day she’s had, he doubts she’s gotten half the calories she burned back and what’s sure to be a sleepless night won’t help either—and just generally loiters around until he hears the conversation at the other end of the pool start to wane.

He heads over on pretense of offering them both some candy and gives Fitz the nod, the one that says he’ll take over here. Fitz’s raised eyebrows are grateful and he hoofs it back to the room they’ll be sharing tonight.

Assuming, that is, Simmons ever heads to hers.

“You know I’m not a child,” Simmons says between candies. “I do know when two men are handling me.”

“Never said you didn’t.” Trip takes Fitz’s seat on the edge of the pool. Sitting on this side gives him a nice view of the parking lot and the street and any trouble that might come their way—plus the concrete’s warm where Fitz was.

“I don’t need to be coddled.”

“No,” Trip says. “But I think you’d agree if Skye’s ex was a known murderer and kidnapper who’d recently talked about kidnapping _her_ -”

Simmons’ raised hand cuts him off. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about my relationship with a known Hydra agent.”

“Fine by me. I actually came over here because I wanted to ask about your parents.”

That gets the irritated look off her face. “My parents?”

“I’m always glad to meet another legacy. Not many people know what it’s like to grow up with agents for parents.”

She stares at him for a minute, her forehead wrinkled in adorable confusion. And then she laughs. The sound carries across the surface of the water, light and airy and so damn charming Trip has no trouble seeing why Ward’d want to play around with her while on mission.

He’s gonna shoot him in the dick for that.

But the sound also reaches Coulson, who gives Trip a different kind of nod, the one that says he’s trusting him to keep watch, before he heads inside.

“You heard Fitz,” Simmons says over the sound of the gate closing. Then, more quietly now they’re all alone. “It’s a joke of his.”

“Kind of a weird joke.”

She tips her head in acknowledgment. “On my official onboarding paperwork, the recruiting agent listed is an Agent Joshi. A very nice man; he was one of my professors at the Academy. But truthfully I never met him prior to that.”

While she talks, her eyes are fixed over his shoulder. Not exactly like she’s watching something, more like she’s let her gaze wander and it’s gotten stuck. He tips his head the opposite direction; she doesn’t correct.

“Obviously it’s best for agents to be recruited by someone in their same field—or what it will be assumed will be their field within the organization. But with SciTech recruits, there’s some worry that enemy agencies might use a prodigy as bait to lure one of SHIELD’s agents into a trap and, being confined mostly to laboratories, they’ll be easy pickings. So an operative is typically sent along.”

“We okay?” Trip cuts in softly. He turns his head just a little. Not enough to spook anyone behind him, but enough she knows he means to look.

She drops her hand to cover his on the pavement. “Oh no, we’re fine. Just someone getting frustrated by the vending machine.”

“Sucks to be them.” Trip shakes his bag. “I got the last ones.” He waits for her smile before adding, “But if that changes, you let me know.” He turns his hand over to tap her palm twice with his fingers. She nods, understanding his meaning.

“In my case,” she picks up, “the recruiting agent suffered a severe case of food poisoning the morning we were set to meet. There was some political kerfuffle happening in Europe at the time so another agent wasn’t readily available. I don’t know if it was orders—perhaps they were worried I might decide to take another offer if they delayed—or if the operative was simply frustrated, but he decided to approach me himself.”

“And he didn’t scare you off?” The operatives running guard duty on recruitment drives aren’t specialists, they’re more muscle than brains. Most of them Trip knows have a nasty habit of talking shop a little too openly and he doubts the one who talked to Simmons would think to adopt a loose cover identity—one less scarred by the violence they have to do so often—to ease her into the realities of SHIELD, let alone have the experience to pull something like that off at a moment’s notice.

She smiles a faraway kind of smile. “No. No, he- My father had passed earlier that year, you see. And he wasn’t- The agent, I mean, he wasn’t like my father really, not at all. But he was father _ly_ in his own way. Not like Coulson, who was practically born to be a parent. He was rough and brash and my mother hated him at first, but there was something about the dangerous air he exuded that could make you feel safe.” She looks down at the water. The lights in the pool have come on, leaving the water clear to the bottom. “It was nice to feel safe again.”

Trip covers her hand with his. He doesn’t say he knows what that’s like, that he lost his own father young and remembers well how the agents he’d known who came to check on the family were like father-shaped friends moving in and out of his life, providing him with little pieces of what he was missing.

Simmons’ wandering gaze has moved to the table where Coulson and Skye were sitting earlier and she frowns. “I never told Skye that,” she says. “I should have. I think sometimes she feels guilty, looking for her parents while loving Coulson like she does.”

“You can tell her now. She’s probably waiting up for you.” And it’s getting too cold out here, with the water so close. It’s time she got some rest.

“Yes,” she says, sounding strangely sad. “She probably is.” She meets her eyes when she says it and Trip sees, in the reflection of them, the moment the neon VACANCY sign overhead is blocked out by a shadow. It’s the same moment he hears the metal fence creak.

By the time the shush of boots landing on concrete reaches him, Trip’s already half to his feet, hand on the pistol tucked into the back of his jeans.

But Ward is faster and Trip’s vision goes blue then black.

~~~~~

“ _Really?_ ” Jemma demands. She’s probably got more to say, but she’s kinda busy holding onto Trip’s lifeless body and struggling to keep it from tipping into the pool.

Grant grips both flaps of Trip’s jacket in one hand and yanks him sideways to safety and, more importantly, _out_ of Grant’s girlfriend’s lap.

To his annoyance, that doesn’t seem to be enough for Jemma. “We have to move him farther—onto one of the chairs is best—that way he won’t roll into the pool in his sleep and anyone who sees him will think he just fell asleep out here.”

Grant hates that she’s right.

Together—with him doing most of the work, he’ll point out—they move Trip to the nearest lawn chair. Jemma does take her sweet time arranging his arms and legs.

“You know anyone could look out a window and see me, right?” Grant asks.

“And that is why,” she says imperiously while rising to her feet—it’s cute how she tries to look down her nose at him while still being a foot shorter than him, really it is, “you should have sent Peterson.”

“You’d rather him rescue you?”

“I’d rather someone the team will hesitate to kill. Do you have any idea how many murderous looks I’ve seen today? No one says anything of course, they’re all too busy feeling sorry for me, but I can see them thinking it every time you come up. I doubt any one of them will hesitate to shoot you—Trip certainly wouldn’t have.”

“You’re worried about me.”

“Yes!”

“You want to protect me.”

She finally picks up on his teasing and rolls her eyes even while she slips her hands beneath his jacket to wrap around his waist. “ _Yes_ , Grant, I want you safe and sound and far from our friends who want you dead.”

“Well, we really must be meant for each other.” He pulls her even closer to his chest. “Because I want the same for you.”

He can’t quite keep the growl out of his voice, but far from scare her off, it has her wincing in what is obviously guilt.

“I know. I’m sorry. But what was I supposed to say? ‘No, sir, I rather think I’d better stay here at Providence where there is absolutely no science to be done rather than help in devising a way to stop the Gifted currently stalking your ex-girlfriend’?” As she speaks, her tone shifts from guilty to accusing. “Who’s idea was it to send Daniels after her anyway?”

“Coulson needed a distraction.” Grant’s not about to throw John under the bus so he leaves it at that.

“Well, next time let’s go for something that doesn’t impede our own plans, shall we?”

Hoping to cheer her up some, he says, “Hey, I got the hard drive cracked, just like you wanted.”

“Did you really have to use _me_ to do it? Everyone is terrified you’re going to kidnap me. It’s a miracle Trip was left to guard me alone.”

Yeah, Grant’s very impressed with Coulson’s choice of guard dog. He puts on a considering look while he pulls her closer. “Isn’t kidnapping you what I’m doing right now?”

She scoffs and whirls out of his hold, heading for the gate. “You are _rescuing_ me from SHIELD. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep one’s cover when you know that literally everyone else on the _planet_ has broken theirs? I’m a terrible liar, Grant!”

He rushes to catch up with her, grabbing her and holding her still just outside the gate, watching the windows of the three rooms he saw the others enter earlier. He can feel Jemma’s heart pounding under his hand, against his chest. Tense as the moment is, he can’t help but enjoy the warmth of her. It’s been _days_ since they had any decent alone time. Even at Providence he barely managed a few seconds to slip her a sedative before she was dragged into that interrogation room.

After a minute passes with no sign of movement he drops his arm away to grip her hand in his and heads for the van he left at the edge of the lot.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Grant says. “I tried to steer Hand into bringing you along but she’s still touchy about that time you shot Sitwell.”

“It was his own fault!” This time she has the sense to whisper her yell, probably because this is an old complaint. “I gave him the signal to back off but he just wouldn’t stop talking!”

“Hey.” He pulls her to a stop. By now they’re far enough across the lot to be out of view of the team’s windows. The teens he paid with beers to stay close to his getaway van burned through the six-pack ages ago and are long gone, and the hobo in the car’s been dead for hours; no one to see them steal a long-overdue moment.

Jemma melts against him. He can feel every hour of tense worry leeching off of her.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, cradling her head to his chest and slipping his fingers into her hair. “I hated to leave you.”

There’s never been a harder decision. He knew he was leaving Jemma alone in the lion’s den but at least they all thought she was a lion too. John on the other hand…

“You couldn’t have let Hand take John,” she says, tipping her head back into his palm.

Grant wasn’t lying earlier; he does think Skye could understand—she loves Coulson like a father after all—but Jemma? She’s the only person in the world who loves John the same way Grant does. He’s been a father to her ever since he recruited her. Only difference is where Grant’s been lucky enough to have been assigned to work with him, Jemma only gets to see him when Hydra arranges for her to be off SHIELD’s radar.

Seeing him so briefly, he knows it’s hit her hard every time how much his condition’s deteriorated and nothing’s been worse than this last time. She’s been antsy to get away from the team since long before the uprising. He barely managed to convince her they had to stick around after Skye recovered.

That’s why Grant bites down on his agreement. Jemma doesn’t need to know that if he’d left John in Hand’s care, he never would have made it to the Fridge, it would only worry her when it’s long taken care of.

“But did you have to kill Koenig?” she whines, cutting into his thoughts. “Do you have any idea the trouble you caused?”

He laughs. He’s pretty sure Skye was more trouble for him than Koenig’s corpse was for her. “Skye got the bright idea to hack NSA satellites to see what went down at the Fridge. Koenig saw the first wave of attack.”

Jemma’s nose scrunches up. “Yes, I suppose that’s good enough reason to kill him. But _stuffing him in a vent._ Really, Grant. Your ribs.”

“You can look at them all you want once we’re safely away,” he promises while he turns her again towards the van.

“I most certainly will,” she says, ignoring his lascivious tone completely. Not a problem; he knows from experience it won’t take long with his shirt off before she’s thinking of things other than medicine. “Did you bring the drive? I’d like to start reviewing those files as soon as possible.”

“It’s on the Bus,” he says.

She makes a faint noise of protest, but that’s all she does. He’s not surprised. The way she’s leaning into him, he’ll be shocked if she’s not asleep before they’re out of the parking lot.

“John’s got his doctors monitoring him 24/7,” Grant soothes while he tucks her into the passenger seat. “No more SHIELD to send him off into danger and force him to exert himself.”

She hums, eyes already shut, and finds a comfortable position beneath the seat belt. “About time,” she murmurs.

Grant shuts the door carefully on her. He couldn’t agree more.


End file.
